Three things from DAH.

DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. I don't make matters worse. Hold on … how should I judge "worse?" 

First up this week, Burnishing …  
I thought I would teach history. Acting seemed too risky a career choice. But I took a break from grad school to work in a winery tasting room. "Just for the summer," I thought. But before summer's end the winery-owning family asked if I'd like to be their public relations director. Flattered, and knowing nothing about public relations, I said, "Yes!" Then bought myself a book and did the things the author recommended. Burnishing the public reputations of others, their products, their places, that's been a major part of my working life. I polished and shined the dreams of others. I was a marketing guy and a theater guy, and, after I'd finished with everything else, I did a little personal reputation burnishing, too. Now I'm done with all that, but retain a hard-earned understanding of how to burnish, and what's worth burnishing.
10 Simple Ways To Improve Your Reputation

Second up this week, Burkeman …  
I became acquainted with the thinking of Oliver Burkeman through his weekly column in The Guardian: "This column will change your life." He shared interesting ideas, and recommended useful-seeming life hacks. Burkeman has moved on from that. Some long-time readers of my weekly e-missive may recall mention of a book by Joan Tollifson titled Death: The End of Self-Improvement. Maybe Burkeman read that book  because his recently published Four Thousand Weeks might have been inspired by it. His premise is that our lives are about 4,000 weeks long, if we're lucky. His introduction is titled In the long run, we're all dead. But the book isn't a downer. It's a practical consideration of how best to approach our living time, knowing its limited. A time management book without hacks, it's more about overcoming FOMO and doing things that really matter to us. I'm enjoying it. 
Happiness for People Who Can't Stand Positive Thinking: An Interview with Oliver Burkeman

Third up this week, Bâtonnage …  
The challenges of personal burnishing and FOMO often encourage the procurement of stuff. Years ago I attended a Small Production Winemaking short course at UCDavis. Celebrated winemaker Joe Swan was a presenter and spoke about lees stirring his barrel fermented Chardonnay (lees, the sediment of grape solids and dead yeast at the bottom of a barrel, can be stirred up into the wine to improve its development). Students were interested in what tool Swan used to stir the lees, a process called bâtonnage in France. Search online and you'll find a variety of clever lees-stirring batons available. Swan told the students he used a piece of molding. "What's that?" they asked. "A leftover piece of wood trim," said Joe Swan. "What kind of wood?" asked the students. Swan just laughed. What struck me: The easy notion that the correct equipment was more important than the activity in which it was used. My, oh, my, does that resonate for me.
Gear Acquisition Syndrome: Lustily Buying More Tools Than You Need

And a bit more:

I Tell The Bees, by Jo Shapcott

He left for good in the early hours with just
one book, held tight in his left hand:
The Cyclopedia of Everything Pertaining
to the Care Of the Honey-Bee; Bees, Hives,
Honey, Implements, Honey-Plants, Etc.
And I begrudged him every single et cetera,
every honey-strainer and cucumber blossom,
every bee-wing and flown year and dead eye.
I went outside when the sun rose, whistling
to call out them as I walked towards the hive.
I pressed my cheek against the wood, opened
my synapses to bee hum, I could smell bee hum.
'It’s over, honies,' I whispered, 'and now you’re mine.'

And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver’s poem Sometimes …  

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it. 

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